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[distant_dragon]

Characters: Drake onyx_drake, Throne child_proteus, and Cancer? catatonicanon
Date/Time: Midnight, Thursday, July 10
Location: Hall of Beginnings
Rating: PG-13 for nekkid and SEVERE wtfery
Summary: Drake gets the most ridiculously baffling hatching occurrence of his life.

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[child_proteus]

It had seemed a harmless enough question, Throne thought; Drake did, after all, look a bit worse for wear, though nothing firing across his synapses led him to believe he had anything to do with it. But the expression on Drake's face and his reaction, told him otherwise. Without warning, Throne had the sickening suspicion that perhaps he was wrong with this assumption, and Drake's declaration of "stupid question" merely confirmed this.

He went to open his mouth to say something, when he found himself quickly smothered by towel. "Not stupid. God, just being nice. You should try it sometime, D, it's totally awesome," Throne muttered under his breath, mildly irritated, slightly emboldened by this newfound and fluffy concealment. Besides, he reasoned, he had every right to be grumpy -- he had, after all, just been born. The least Drake could do was be vaguely pleased to see him, rather than playing at being Mr. Disgruntled.

Pushing himself up and off the ground with stiff muscles, he gave his hair a perfunctory toweling before hearing another instance of that wet sound, that squish that always came with the timely burst of a membrane. Delivery number two, Throne thought. When it rains, it pours, right? But secretly, he was somewhat pleased at the prospect of a sibling. Nowadays, a single birth seemed a rarity, and the thought that he'd get one his second time around kind of pleased him -- even though it meant going through all of this nonsense all over again.

Hands and feet slipping slightly against the wet tiles, Throne spun around to see the strangest thing: a cocoon, completely intact, with nothing but a slender leg dangling limply from it. And Drake tugging on its ankle stubbornly, as if engaged in the strangest game of tug-of-war ever.

Throne blinked, and then blinked again, waiting expectantly for something to happen. Carefully, he slid himself along the ground, then gave the leg of Drake's pants a sharp tug with his fingers. "Dude," Throne whispered suspiciously, "is it dead?"

[catatonicanon]

Unbeknownst to the young men outside, Canon was snickering at their inability to properly pull her free. The cocoons were actually much easier to break from the inside than from out--otherwise, she'd be breaking them all the time instead of just trying to roll out off and away. Nonetheless, the novelty of being nothing more than a limp leg soon wore off, and she even found herself yawning in the liquid, an action that resulted in an altogether too amused gurgle.

Using the bottom of the cocoon for leverage, she prepared to shove her other leg through the cocoon walls--and as she kicked out, the wall simply caved outwards, spilling its contents entirely. And all aimed at the poor young man who was still clutching her ankle.

Well. There were people here. And they were both boys--the dark haired one looked something like she'd imagine Denzel should look; the blond haired one was both naked and sopping wet himself, which meant one thing. She apparently had a new twin brother... ah well, as long as he was nowhere near as creepy as her real twin brother, she could cope. And she herself was--oh god, she was still a she.

She kicked out, trying to free her foot almost frantically all while making fun squeaky noises that made her snort cocoon juices up her nose. With a cough and a sputter, she lay herself out flat--as though dead--face down on the floor and in a puddle of liquid with a sigh, muttering, "Bah hef fuffle herr perf hee hee."

Whatever that meant. She spasmed a couple times before looking at the dark haired one--who still quite possibly in shock--held her ankle, and with a murmured, "'scooz meh," vomited the rest of the cocoon juice in her lungs on his shoes. "Much better."

And she smiled, accomplished.

[distant_dragon]

"Look, when you go through what I've been through the last couple of days then you can talk to me about being nice," Drake grumbled. Yes, he was being Mr. Disgruntled. Yes, he was grouchy. Yes, he was completely plotting delivering an epic asskicking the moment Throne was out of here and cleaned up. Why? Because he deserved it. Nevertheless he was very very very happy to see him again. Talk about your relieving moments.

"I have no idea, it's not moving...can cocoons be stillborn?" Given his suspicions on the nature of the cocoons that seemed entirely unlikely, but it was worth an ask, right? He pulled a little bit more -- and oh will you look at that, the cocoon gave way and just like that Drake got SOAKED by the goop aiming out of the thing. He had just enough presence of mind to shove his left hand out of the way before he was drenched from head to toe. Okay gross.

"It's not dead," he managed to get out, completely in shock and totally goopy. He still had his fingers around her ankle and then...he got cocoon goop barfed on his shoes. Oh great. This was easily the best day of his entire life right here. He sat there, totally in shock and staring at a naked woman, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, which was...

"...nice watch?"

Drake was a genius. This was not a situation where genius was the first thing he thought about being.

[child_proteus]

"God," Throne said, rolling his eyes in response to the epic wisdom and brilliant observation that was the first thing to tumble from Drake's mouth. So naked women weren't really Drake's thing -- neither of their thing to be honest -- and yeah, so maybe she'd gone a little overboard with the bodily fluids, but come on. Nice watch? Who said that sort of thing? It wasn't even bad pick-up line material. It was just, First stop, Non sequitor Land. Population: Just Drake.

"Stick to guarding, guard boy," Throne then added flatly. "Your delivery could use some work."

Scrambling now up to his feet, he pushed Drake slightly out of the way with one hand, making a point to avoid the puddles of goop standing on the floor. He peered carefully at the crouched young woman that had sat as his feet and, offering his hand to her carefully, asked, "Hey, you. You alright?"

The minute those words left his lips, Throne had the strangest sensation of deja vu. In an instant, his eyes stopped peering and shifted into a full-on stare, though for the life of him, he couldn't place the face. Perhaps it was one of those strange time lapse things, he thought. Maybe he'd angered the elevator gods again and instead of just stealing time, they decided to deposit them both here as well just to teach them a lesson in humility. "Rough ride, I bet," he said with a small smile, and undoing the towel wrapped around his waist, offered it to her. Throne knew doing that meant he was naked again, but whatever. It was the small kindnesses in moments like these meant everything, made all the difference. Drake would just have to deal with it for the time being, maybe even enjoy the view.

[catatonicanon]

It'd been a while since she was born while a guide was around. Usually, she happened to spawn during the change of the guards or who knows--but more often than not, she was alone whenever rehatched. It was strange, being greeted again, possibly for the first time in years. It was strangely calming, though that didn't show on her face: instead, her face looked entirely and hopelessly euphoric. She had definitely been smoking something while stuffed in that cocoon.

Unsure of whether to flail at the dark haired one for noticing her be-yooooooooo-tiful watch or to jump at the prospect of covering up her female nude, Canon wound up laughing. It came out sounding like the grinding of gears and the pinging of a toaster but was a laugh nonetheless. And after getting that out of her system--much like how she'd gotten that cocoon juice out of it, and that was quite entertaining--she took the proffered towel and started pressing at the boy's soiled shoes with it.

"You know, boys don't know how to clean nothing. You see, you'd just rub the stuff into the carpet as opposed to patting it out. See here, this is the way to do it, mah boys! DONE!"

She sat back, seemingly ignorant of the word 'shame' and looking proud, before turning her head down to look at herself for the first time. Feigning confusion and shock!, she declared, "MEIN GOTT, I am disrobed!" And so 'realizing', she stood up in a huff and charged behind her blond brother, with an added, "Save me!"

Then peeked out to add, "I like your watch too," appending a hoarse donkey-haw giggle to the end of the statement.

[distant_dragon]

Yes, Drake enjoyed the view, now we will not revisit that topic and get onto the matter at hand. Ahem.

Okay, so he hadn't exactly spewed out a normal greeting but then again, that wasn't exactly a normal hatching for him. Usually Drake was off to the side and waiting. This time he'd practically been under her when she hatched. Though that had happened before...but Kazahana hadn't puked all over his shoes, either. Sigh. What a life, seriously.

The laugh sort of made him bring his brows together in a puzzled expression; he wasn't quite sure if it was a laugh or some sign of a dysfunctional throat. He finally settled on 'laugh'. Good enough for him, all around, he figured. When she started blotting at his shoes, though, he paused and did his best to not start snickering on his own. That was so thoughtful, in a really really weird way. "Thanks."

However, when she sat back he coughed and looked somewhere else REALLY fast. What? That wasn't up his alley! Be nice to the poor boy who prefers his own gender! When she sprinted behind Throne, though, he was biting his lip all over again to keep from laughing. Dear lord. Okay, this had skewed into the realm of the completely odd. Oh well.

"Gimme a second, I'll help with that." He heaved his goopy self off the floor, squelching his way over to where all the stuff was for hatchlings and digging out a couple of extra towels and some clothes before bringing them over. "I figured you wouldn't wanna goop up your own stuff," he noted to Throne, handing over one set to him before peering around at the woman. "Here, this ought to help...what's your name?"

At the comment about his own watch, though, he looked down. Not too many people had noticed his little trinket from Manhattan, and he was kind of glad someone did. "Thanks." It actually coaxed something approximating a smile out of him.

[catatonicanon]

Indeed, a name--she'd have to think of once stat. Taking the towel and clothes from the boy, she started blotting herself with the towel to get herself dry.

"WAIT. What's this one and your names first? I don't tell my name to strangers!" She announced proudly.

[child_proteus]

Throne coughed, somewhat awkwardly, still playing at being Mr. Wall. Silently, though, he was rather relieved that -- oh, thank you, god -- at least Mr. Wall didn't have to be naked anymore. Never once had a pair of pants seemed so amazing before in his life.

"This one," Throne said, turning towards the young woman with a thumb in his own face, "This one is named Throne -- well, at least for the time being. And that one," he then stabbed a finger towards Drake, "That one we like to call Casper." Throne smiled at her very widely and then, turning back towards Drake, flashed it at him as well, the entire time thinking to himself, Don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me. Please let the name stick. Don't hit me.

[distant_dragon]

If Mr. Wall wanted to stay naked that was just fine, but perhaps not in mixed company. At least, this was Drake's not altogether humble opinion. However, pants were most likely something called-for in this situation.

He opened his mouth to say something and then Throne spoke first. The first part he just nodded at. The second...he blinked, and then looked absolutely horrified. This was followed rapidly by the most deadly glare that Drake had ever, ever leveled in Throne's direction. It very clearly said 'I am going to hurt you in ways that you have never even imagined exist'. Oh that little bastard.

"Casper's not quite right," he corrected mildly, pondering angles of attack and where he could hit that would hurt the most. "My name is Drake."

[catatonicanon]

But she was completely ignoring his assertion concerning his own name, and nodding thoughtfully with eyes screwed shut in mock-concentration, commented, "Yes, yes, must be very friendly then. Friendly and white, yes."

Fixed her glazed over druggie eyes on Casper, she smiled emptily and said, "It's a fitting name!" And turning to Throne, she added, "You hardly look like an ornate toilet seat, but who cares? It's the thought that counts."

Having finished drying herself off, she tossed the towel at the cocoons and started dressing herself, pants first. "Now, what's my name, yeah, my name... oooh, I know!" Placing her hands on her hips and staring down at herself, she declared, "38C!" With a nod and a jiggle of her chest, and smiled, adding, "See? They like it!" before sliding herself into her shirt.

[child_proteus]

"You know, you're the first person to actually get that reference," Throne said, buttoning his way up the front of his shirt. He paused and thought about what she had said again. "Actually, you're the first person to get both of them. Nobody else in the place seems to realize that a throne isn't exactly always the greatest place to plant your ass."

Throne opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, something unspeakable happened. Yes, she told them her name.

Perfect, Throne thought, facepalming inwardly and outwardly at the same time. How amazingly utterly brain-breakingly perfect. So he and the female anatomy were not buddy-buddy; but for all of his aversion for such soft, round parts, Throne knew secretly that Drake's was doubly so. His eyes sliding sideways in their sockets, he looked rather urgently towards Drake, genuinely afraid that his best friend might have some kind of aneurysm or swoon face flat into the cocoons.

"At least she's got a sense of humor, right?" he said weakly with a small laugh. "I mean, she's perfect sister material. Who'd pass up a chance to be related to that?"

[distant_dragon]

"I'm not friendly," Drake bitched under his breath though he looked completely blank at the rest of it. He certainly didn't get the reference...well, either of them. He just looked totally clueless. This happened all the time around Throne though; the pop culture references went clean over his little ninja head.

And then...HORROR. Complete, total, utter horror. It wasn't like he publicized his reactions to certain part of the female anatomy -- well, when Bastet wasn't shaking them in his face, that is, and he figured he had license to squawk and scramble away in that situation -- but when someone had a) named themselves after said anatomy and b) jiggled them JUST to drive the point home...well then. He managed to somehow not have a complete freak out moment. See, he was good. Really.

"Uh-huh." He gave Throne a weird look, before saving himself by running over to get the other stuff. "You didn't come out with this on you so I'm going to assume you need a new one," he commented, handing a journal over to Throne before smirking. "And since YOU have a job and a house you do not get the cash, so there." Heh. He turned to 38C -- dear god his poor brain -- and handed over the journal and the little bag of coins. "Here you are." He explained about the coins, then about how the journal worked, you wrote in it and everyone saw it, so forth and so on, and how it never ran out of pages, because "well, filled pages can't be reused," he finished.

Weirdest. Greeting. Ever. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair...realizing belatedly that his hair was all gloppy. Ugh. Need shower.

[catatonicanon]

"Ignorance! That's all it is, these days! Get themselves all caught up in the recent and popular and forget about what really matters! But it's okay--at least your name isn't Outhouse or something." As she said all this, she poked absentmindedly at her right nipple, thinking how inconvenient it was that she couldn't rush over to Third Street to bind her chest down. Bah, whatever. She'd have time to do that later. "And you're plenty friendly, Casper--my boy--otherwise, you'd have taken those shoes off by now."

38C watched silently as Casper--the now seemingly unfriendly, but in truth, very friendly ghost--deprived her twin brother of his money bag and focused his attention on lecturing her. Between yawning and scratching her non-existent balls, she flipped through the pages of her new journal, each of which were perfectly pristine cream. Most people had writing in theirs as soon as they started out, but hers never began transferring what other people wrote until she herself took pen to page.

"That? I got that memorized!" she declared, sounding for all the world like a child who successfully rattled off her times tables. "But whoever told you the last part was lying. They never run out of pages because he forgot to remember that everything comes to an end."

Then without warning, she suddenly threw her coin pouch at Throne's head, announcing, "SINKING YOUR BATTLESHIP!!"

[child_proteus]

So about this time in the conversation, Throne began feeling like he was missing out on something. It had begun merely as a small tickle, the inkling of a feeling rather than a feeling in its own right. But now, that sensation was starting to take shape, to become much more tangible and in way that Throne could get his mind around. Something about their back and forth, made him feel like Drake knew Jiggles ThirtyEight from somewhere before. But try as he might to wrack his brain, her face just kept returning an empty response; when that didn't work, he tried the outline of her body, and yeah, that gave him a small whisper, but nothing nowhere near concrete.

Nevermind her whole preoccupation with being a dude -- the way that she sat and scratched, the slouch of her posture -- what was weirder was the things that she said to Drake, with surety and the petulance of a smarty-pants.

He, he thought, who the hell is he? Throne pondered this for only a moment, wanting it to throughly twist his brain into knots, when suddenly he was rudely interrupted. A small pouch of coins beamed him, quite squarely, across the side of his head before dropping neatly into the palm of his open, though very shocked, hand. "Oh ho," he said, narrowing his eyes at her, fingers now clutching the changepurse. His body posture shifted slightly, offensively. "Jiggles, it's so totally on."

Lips twisting up into a lopsided smirk, he tossed the bag back at her head, giving a small laugh. "Besides," he added, now pouncing after her somewhat playfully, "you're gonna need three more hits before this battleship's sunk!"

[distant_dragon]

"If I took my shoes off I'd be slopping through everything on the floor in my socks, and that's a very unpleasant prospect," Drake noted with a sigh as he was referred to as 'Casper' yet again. He seemed to take it in a reasonable amount of stride though, which was probably odd in and of itself -- but hey, he'd had a stellar example of what happened when you insisted your name was 'not' something. Lesson learned. He rapidly looked somewhere else when she poked at her nipple, then cleared his throat and went back to what he was doing.

"It's part of my job to give the spiel, even if you've got it memorized," he answered with what was aaaaaaaalmost humor. Almost. He tilted his head to the side then, one eyebrow raising the very slightest bit as he notched yet another little clue into the giant cluebook in his mind. "A lot of things like that get forgotten here," he noted, very mildly. He understood what she was talking about, even if she didn't realize it yet. He knew she would.

As she beaned Throne in the side of the head with the moneybag he turned and snorted softly. Okay, that was just damn funny on a whole lot of levels. He'd looked sort of preoccupied before this though...hm. Interesting. Very interesting. "Come on, children," he sighed, sounding utterly utterly longsuffering despite looking utterly ridiculous with his goopy hair and clothes. Poor guy, really.

"Guys, I reeeeeeeeeally want a shower. Thirty-Eight, you need anything else I can get for you?" He knew she already had a place to go, and the very faint quirk of his lips betrayed that -- in a very odd way -- he was glad to see her roaming around again.

[catatonicanon]

"Spoil sport! A little grime and slime never killed anyone!" 38C laughed, catching the money bag deftly before shooting it in Casper's direction. "And from now on, your name is Battleship Outhouse--B.O. for short!" she directed to her twin brother, with a laugh--a normal laugh.

They were starting to call Canon out from inside herself. No, they were calling Re--dropping the thought, she dodged behind a few of the still intact cocoons with a long whistle, before calling out, "You take that shower, Casper--maybe take B.O. with you! He needs a good wash down himself, kind of like an elephant!" Her voice had dropped several octaves, her male facade completed were it not for her obvious breasts.

If he were around to stop it, it wouldn't have worked. Part of her just wanted to try for the heck of it, just to see whether it'd work or not... willing Third Street to appear in her mind, the floor opened up beneath her, and she fell inside, with nothing more than a calm smile and a shouted, "Come visit me at Third Street sometime! I'll make sure your battleship's good and dead then, B.O.!"

And if they peeked around the cocoons, they'd find 38C was gone.